


Prisoner Under The Mountain

by thethreepassages



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Badass Dwarf Women, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, No Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethreepassages/pseuds/thethreepassages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Erebor fell to Smaug there were countless deaths, but is it possible that Prince Thorin survived the attack and is being held captive by the dragon? Gandalf certainly believes so, and has recruited a band of dwarves to reclaim the mountain and rescue the heir to the throne. There's just one problem, they need a burglar to save their prince in shining armor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once upon a time

 

Bilbo Baggins stepped out of his door as the morning sun climbed into the sky.

He would often sit on the bench in his flower garden on pleasant mornings such as this. Bilbo had poured countless hours into his mother’s peonies, hydrangeas, and tulips and they always gave him a sense of comfort. This morning the blossoms were especially fragrant. A thin smile darted across the hobbit’s face as he filled his pipe. He sat down on the bench, pulled a match from his trousers, and swiftly light it with his thumb. Bringing the pipe to his mouth he softly waved to his neighbors who ambled down the path.

It was a morning like any other.

Bilbo closed his eyes blissfully and exhaled puffs of smoke. But before he could open his eyes a gruff voice spoke. “Bilbo Baggi-”

“By **Yavanna**!” Bilbo squawked as he nearly jumped out of his skin. His entire body jerked and he tossed his pipe across his garden. Before him stood a man who was as tall as two hobbits, and as grey as soot.

“My apologies Master Baggins.” Chuckled the aging man. “I did not mean to frighten you.” He would have sounded sincere if not for the hearty laugh that followed the apology.

“Yes well... it’s quite alright.” Muttered the hobbit. Bilbo somehow managed to sound even less sincere than the man, but he quickly switched into a warm and welcoming tone that was so often spoken by hobbits “Well good morning sir, what brings you to Bag End?” Bilbo brushed his hand through the chestnut colored curls that framed his face and smiled faintly.

“It has been a long time since I’ve been, and I was looking for a young halfling I once knew.” The man looked up from under the brim of his huge hat and two dazzling blue eyes met Bilbo’s. “I suppose that I should introduce myself properly. I am the wizard Gandalf the Grey.”

Realization flooded through Bilbo as long forgotten memories bubbled to the top of his mind.

“You wouldn’t be the same Gandalf that had the marvelous fireworks?”

Gandalf sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “None other.” His lips slowly worked themselves into a smile. “We have much to discuss, but first, tell me Bilbo, how do you feel about adventures?”

 

 

**************

 

 

Thorin walked from his chambers to the library.

He often wondered how many times he had made this journey.

How many times had he walked the same 200 paces from his door to the massive study?

 _Twenty thousand? Thirty perhaps?_ He thought to himself.

When he arrived in the massive hall, he walked slowly to the section that was filled with ancient tomes that chronicled the history of middle earth. He let out a deep sigh and reached out for the final copy in the series entitled A Complete History of the Realm. Thorin almost laughed. “I’ve run out of history” he quietly muttered to himself. He picked up the leather bound book and found his way to the surprisingly comfortable stone chair he had damn near worn a groove into and began to read.

He had spent years doing nothing and he could feel himself stagnating.  He was a prisoner in his own home. He had been only 27 when Erebor fell to the dragon, and he couldn’t remember how long he had spent inside this accursed mountain, but he couldn’t imagine it was anything short of 100 years. He thought for a time that the dwarves would reclaim Erebor, but he soon realized that they were not eager to face Smaug again. He spent countless hours imagining what had happened to his family. Had the King made it out? What about his father, Frerin, and Dis? The only activity that he indulged in more frequently than imagining his family escaping was imagining himself escaping. He would often develop plans to break out the mountain, but was yet to successfully execute them. _Trial and error_ he had told himself, and it would appear he had plenty of time to do so. Thorin had tried sneaking through the front entrance only to find Smaug waiting for him atop a thousand bank’s worth of gold. He tested the back tunnels only to find piles of burnt corpses strewn out before the collapsed entrance. Afterwards he had cried hot tears of rage and spent days without food or drink. At first, Thorin wanted revenge against the beast that had slaughtered his kin and forced them from their home, but after years of imprisonment, what he yearned for above all else was to feel the grass beneath his feet. He could die happily if it was beneath the sun, but he would never give Smaug the satisfaction of dying in captivity.

The prince became determined to spend his time productively. His mind and body were his finest weapons and he would not allow them to become dull. He would spend hours trying to build his muscles by working with swords, axes, and anything he could find. Then he would devote time to reading all he could. He preferred to read about legends of dragons and particularly the tales that mentioned how to kill the beasts, but he soon ran out of new material. After reading the stories of monsters he resigned himself to working his way through the entire collection, and he was now approaching the end of the collection housed in the library.

Even with all the effort put forth to remain sound his mind was beginning to slip. 

Thorin would often go for weeks at a time without talking and his own voice would become a stranger to him. More recently he would find himself hallucinating and would talk to the images his mind rendered, and it was happening more and more frequently. He had seen Dis and Frerin as children running through the halls and later imagined that orcs invaded the mountain. On one occasion he walked past a mirror and his reflection was replaced with his grandfather’s face. When his own image returned, he found that some of the king’s silver hair remained in his own strands.

 

Hours passed as Thorin read through the rather dry history book, page after page until something caught his attention. The text mentioned the halflings that lived to the west and how they avoided detection by men for  hundreds of years.

 _How could an entire race be invisible to the outside world_ ? he wondered. _With a skill set like that, it’s amazing they  aren't  all thieves and burglars_.


	2. The Princess

Bilbo had always liked ponies

from a distance

Having never ridden one before, he had no idea that his legs would ache, but he was now fully aware of just how terrible it was.

Within the course of 12 hours he had somehow managed to house an impromptu dwarven dinner party, become acquainted with a princess, sign his life away for the promise of gold, and most recently have his bottom rubbed raw by an especially foul tempered pony. Why did I agree to this again? Bilbo wondered as he sighed deeply. They had been riding all day, and he was fairly certain that his legs had turned to jelly. It wasn’t rough terrain to cross, but the sun was beginning to escape beyond the horizon.

As if on cue, a pleasant silvery voice rang out through the company. “Dismount. We’ll set up camp here for the night.” Dis was the unquestioned leader of the dwarves. She had escaped the Lonely Mountain with her father, the king, and her brother Frerin, but now she was the only one who remained. “Fili, Kili!” she shouted. “You had better find a safe place for the ponies.” She had lost much in her lifetime but she still had her two sons, and by the way she looked at them, you would think she had never known suffering. Though death and destruction had followed her all through her life, she had remained an ardent and steadfast leader to her people. She quickly hopped down from her small horse and walked to Bilbo’s side.

“Do you need some assistance getting off of Myrtle, Master Baggins?” she asked with a friendly and sincere smile.

“Oh, I’m quite alright.” answered Bilbo as he slowly slid off the side of the pony. “But thank you.”

“Actually, it is I who should thank you. You had no reason to accompany us on this journey and yet you offer us your help. I cannot adequately express to you just how thankful I- we all are to have you.”

“I, er- don’t mention it” Bilbo sputtered feeling very unequipped to respond to such praise. “I figure that you reclaiming your home is worth having a sore rump.”

Dis gave a small grin and nodded politely, leaving Bilbo to tend to his new irritable four legged companion. He grabbed hold of Myrtle’s lead rope and brought her into the clearing that would house the ponies for the night. Gandalf had said that a farmer and his family had once lived here, but the small cabin looked completely destroyed.

“I can’t imagine what would have driven them away.” the wizard pondered aloud as he led his massive white horse.

 

 

“Why would a family just up and leave?” Bofur asked as the group investigated the ruins of the abandoned homestead.

“Perhaps a fire?” suggested Ori.

Balin shook his head “The wood isn’t charred.”

Dwalin ran a hand down the side of a partially collapsed wall. “There’s something about this that feels awfully strange.”

Dis led from the front as the company ambled through the destroyed home. She appeared just as concerned as her kin. After searching through the surrounding trees looking for any sign or reason for the evacuation of the residence the dwarves found nothing.

“Well, we haven’t any other options.” Dis finally said as she let out a sigh. “Let’s start a fire while we still have daylight.”

 

 

During supper the dwarves forgot their worries and instead turned their minds to the promise of a home many of them had never seen.

As they sat around the fire, stories were told of the great city under the mountain.They shared tales of the polished stone halls and the gleaming jewels that were mined from the quarries beneath the city.They sung songs that had once filled their city with such merriment that for the first time Bilbo was glad to be accompanying them on their quest.

Once the food was gone and the laughter had died down, a small voice broke the silence.

“Is it really possible that Thorin could still be alive?” Ori asked.

Fili and Kili immediately looked at each other with concern and their eyes quickly darted to their mother to gauge her reaction. Bilbo looked up at the wizard and raised an eyebrow quizzingly. Dis let out a quiet sigh and looked into the fire. The burning embers illuminated her olive skin and gave her an erethrial golden glow.

“I would be lying to you if I said that I did not wonder even now, but Gandalf has reason to belie-”

“I would not lead you on a wild goose chase, I assure you that your prince is alive. Retaking the mountain will be no small venture, and I suggest we spend our time focusing on getting there alive.” the wizard huffed and a silence settled over the camp.

Bilbo looked to Dis and then to Gandalf. “Who’s Thorin?”

Fili’s and Kili’s jaws nearly dropped to the ground and nearly all of the dwarves mumbled to each other.

“How, can he not-”

“I just assumed that the halflings knew.”

“By Durin’s beard.”

Dis ran a hand through her dark and braided hair and cleared her throat, effectively silencing the group. “My brother.”

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

The princess smiled sadly at the halfling and in an instant Bilbo knew he shouldn’t have asked.

 “Oh, goodness, I’m sorry, nevermi-”

“No, it’s quite alright.” Dis rubbed the stubble on her face and looked back into the fire. “When the dragon took Erebor there were many who did not escape. My family was split up in the confusion and I ended up with my brothers. As we made for the entrance Smaug cornered us in the great hall.” Although no tears fell from her eyes, her voice was beginning to crack and waver. “Thorin distracted the beast and Frerin and I were able to-” She looked back to the fire. “Many years have passed and I have lost family since, but I still mourn my brother.”

Gandalf stood up from the fire in a desperate attempt to defuse the tension.

“Bilbo, why don’t you come with me to check on the ponies.” The hobbit was thankful for the wizard’s intervention and left the others to sit around the fire.They walked out to the edge of the clearing without saying a word, but as soon as they were out of earshot Gandalf spoke up.

“Bilbo, I swear to you that Thorin is alive.”

 “Does Dis not believe you?”

“ I don’t think she had ever imagined that he might still live, and to believe and find him dead would be like losing him all over again. Dis has lost much in her life and I cannot blame her for wanting to spare herself the heartache. But I assure you that Thorin lives.”

 “Ganda-”

“That is why we hired a burglar. We need you to get inside the mountain and tell the prince of our plan to slay the dragon and free him.”

 “Yes, but-”

“Hobbits are truly remarkable creatures, they can become nearly invisible to those seeking them when they want to, and you must not doubt-.” Bilbo cut off the wizard sharply.

 “Gandalf the ponies are _gone_!”


	3. The Monster's Call

“I’m never going to get all the snot out of this coat.” Bilbo sighed. He leaned over the riverbank and scrubbed his red corduroy jacket under the cool slow moving water. Behind the hobbit a hearty laugh approached.

"Without you, snotty coats would be the very least of our concerns." Bofur approached the water and rolled his trouser legs up "That was smart thinking back there lad, I'm beginning to see why Gandalf brought you along." The dwarf slowly stepped into the stream and pushed up his sleeves. "I like snot as much as the next guy, but I like havin' my arms even more" Bilbo heaved his now soaking and heavy coat out of the water and rubbed his small hands together in an attempt to warm them.

“How can you stand being in the water?” he asked.

“It’s still summer Bilbo, this is as warm as rivers get!” Bofur laughed as he cleansed his hands.

“But what about the current?”

“This stream can barely carry a leaf, I don’t think I’m in any danger of being washed away.” Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. “Are you just afraid of rivers?” Bofur questioned. “Or just any any sorta water?.”

“Hobbit’s aren’t really swimmers, myself particularly.” Bilbo said shrugging. “I get nervous just taking a bath.” He added humorously.

“I think that anyone who can take out a band of mountain trolls need not be frightened by running water.” Bofur raised an eyebrow at the hobbit.

“You all make it sound as if I battled them! I wasn’t being brave or strong! The only thing I did was stall them until-”

“Ya’ saved our lives Bilbo. You might not have fightin strength, but you do have a courage of sorts.” The dwarf climbed onto the bank and unrolled his trousers. “You’d better ring that coat out if you don’t want to catch a chill.” The hobbit sat on the ground for a moment longer and pondered over what Bofur had said. Perhaps he did have a sort of strength in him.

“You coming lad?” Bofur called from a distance. “We’ve still got a long march ahead of us.” Bilbo stood up and quickly walked back to camp and found that everyone was packed and ready to leave.

“We’re ready when you are Master Baggins!” Dis called out to the hobbit.

“Yes, well, I think I’m quite ready.” He answered back. They loaded their horses and disembarked. Bilbo rode at the very end of the group, right behind Fili and Kili who had turned out to be very amusing traveling companions.

“All I’m saying is that Gandalf should be able to use some sort of wizardry to get us to the lonely mountain. What good is having magic if you only whip it out in life or death situations?” Fili rolled his eyes at his brother.

“What, do you think he could summon an army of butterflies to carry us to Erebor? Or does that not make any sense?” Fili added sarcastically. By the time the party was approaching Rivendell Bilbo’s stomach ached from laughter.

“We’re not going in are we?” Fili asked the dwarf in front of him as the city grew ever closer in the distance. Just as he asked, a loud howl broke out. “Wargs!” 

 

 

*******

 

When Thorin would venture down to the lower levels, he always brought a weapon with him. It’s not as if he could actually defend himself from the dragon if it decided to attack, but it gave him a sense of safety.

On his walks down the winding stairs and hallways he would often practice his swordsmanship. During his time spent alone in the mountain, Thorin had nearly perfected his footwork, but without anyone to spar with he was sure that his skills had faded to a shadow of what they once were.On this particular trip he focused on maintaining balance when fighting on stairs. Not the most practical thing to practice, but hey, whatever it takes to stall the crippling loneliness.

When he reached the lower level that held the palace's wine reserves he sheathed his sword and slowly pushed on the great stone door. Even after all of his years inside the mountain the storeroom was still heavily stocked with lavish wines. Thorin grabbed a few bottles and stuffed them into his jacket and began the long walk back home.

Once he had returned to his room and was settled in, Thorin picked up his harp and began to pluck out a few notes. Before he could begin to play he heard the sound of a deep breath. His eyes shot up quickly and he scanned the room.

 _Looking for someone?_ The dragon’s voice echoed through his mind.

By the gods, not again.

Of all his hallucinations, Smaug was becoming the most frequent. Thorin didn’t indulge in his own madness when he could help it, and instead pulled the cork from one of the bottles of wine he had fetched earlier.

 _You know drinking won’t make me go away._ The prince sighed and quickly took a very large swig. _It never helps does it? Not for very long anyway._

“I don’t care what you have to say.” he muttered under his breath. _Oh? The great king under my mountain knows better than I?_

“If you knew anything, you would know that I am no king.”

 _I know that you are the last of your family, that you are alone in the world. A king of corpses, and what a fine ruler you are._ The monster hissed.

Thorin’s hand clenched the neck of the bottle tightly and he drank until he gasped for air. The liquid burned down his throat and he could feel it washing away that creature’s voice. It spoke again, this time little more than a whisper. _The_ _lonely mountain indeed._ Then there was nothing but silence.

Thorin put his head in his hands and groaned loudly. The voice was lying to him. His family still lived, they must live. He reached for his wine one last time and emptied it into his mouth. He moved to his bed and waited for sleep to take him, he prayed he would not dream of death, but it was in vain.

He saw the kingdom fall exactly as it had all those years ago, but now he watched his family burn and turn to ash.

He awoke in a sweat.

How many times would he have to watch his home be destroyed? He did not believe he could take it much longer. He arose, changed his clothing, and began his walk to the library. When he sat down in his chair he picked up his place in his book where he had left off.

Thorin had difficulty focusing on the text and his mind began to wander. Perhaps Smaug had not lied to him yesterday. It was very possible that his family had been slain in their escape. _You sacrificed yourself for nothing_. An all too familiar voice whispered to him. _Honor and courage did nothing but send your siblings to their graves._

“You know nothing!” Thorin shouted and clasped his hands around his head.

_But Thorin… I know **you.**_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter is going to be a bit longer but I hope that it'll move the story along nicely and we can get into some fluffy stuff before too long. Comments are always welcome, and I'll try to update again soon!


	4. Gratitude

The company had only spent one afternoon in Rivendell and their patience was already wearing thin. Lord Elrond had rescued them from the wargs but their gratitude was shortly lived, they were still knife ears after all. To make matters worse, the elves of Rivendell didn’t eat meat, and the group could only stand it for so long. “How do they eat this?” Fili muttered under his breath.

Dwalin grabbed for his cup and downed it in one glug. “At least the wine is strong.” he grumbled.

Kili wasn’t nearly as upset with the situation as his brother was, and he found himself exploring the city with Bilbo, much to his mother’s displeasure. They wandered through the intricate architecture and it was like nothing either of them had ever seen before. Bilbo shared what little history he knew of Rivendell with the young dwarf who was completely enthralled by the stories.

“I don’t know as much as I’d like to, just enough to be dangerous” Bilbo laughed.

“It’s amazing that you know anything at all, I had always heard that elves kept their stories and songs secret amongst themselves.” Kili said with a voice full of wonder. “When all of this is over, I’d like to learn to read elvish properly. I only know common phrases, colors, greetings, just basic things really. But I could teach you what I know, if you’d like to learn.” Bilbo said with a smile.

Kili rolled his eyes and laughed humorlessly “I bet Mother would love that.”

The hobbit’s face turned pink. “Oh, I’m sorry, I mean, I completely forgot for a moment about…” Bilbo’s voice faded into silence as he collected his thoughts and spoke up again. “Why don’t dwarves and elves get along?”

“I’d guess that it’s just our natural differences. They’re tall and don’t have beards, can’t swing an axe to save their lives. But Mother doesn't just hate ‘em cause of that. She won’t talk about it much, but Balin told me that when the dragon took Erebor the Murkwood elves came to came to help us. But when they saw how easily Smaug slaughtered our people, they fled.”

Bilbo was shocked. His mouth opened but he couldn’t find any words to express himself so he shut it again.

“What could they have done? I don’t think they would have made a difference, sure it would have been a nice thing to do, but it would have just ended in more death.” Kili shrugged. “Us dwarves are a bit stubborn the people who were there will probably never forgive them, but I wasn’t even born yet. I don’t love the elves for what they did, but I can’t find it in me to hate them either.”

Bilbo understood Kili’s reasoning and thought that it was rather wise of him not to mirror his people’s opinions without cause. They slowly began to meander back to the party in silence. The sun was escaping beyond the horizon and the sky was soon filled with stars. When they returned they found that the entire company was gone besides Gandalf and Dis who who were talking to Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel.

“I think I’m going to find the others.” Kili muttered quietly to Bilbo and quickly escaped.

Bilbo walked up to the wizard, dwarf, and two elves with caution.  

"By all that is good Dis! You have not come all this way to let your pride get the better of you. I beg you, show Lord Elrond the map." The wizard sounded as if he was scolding a child who refused to apologize to their sibling.

The dwarf looked up towards Elrond and he eyes turned to cold slits. "How do I know that I can trust these elves."  She hissed. The lady Galadriel turned her gaze from Dis to Bilbo.

 

_Speak up dear Hobbit._

 

Bilbo heard a soft voice echo through his mind.

 

 

_Perhaps she'll listen to you._

 

"If they wanted us dead they could have left us to the wargs." The group turned to look at the small hobbit who had joined their discussion. "Gandalf is right, and we're in no position to be turning down help when it's offered."

Dis huffed and reached into a pocket that was sewn into her dusty blue riding coat and pulled out a carefully folded piece of parchment. Elrond smiled and extended a hand out to her, but she gave the paper to Gandalf instead, who accepted it with a roll of his eyes. Galadriel glanced at Bilbo and a thin smile danced across her face.

“Perhaps I should escort Mister Bilbo to his companions and leave you to discuss this matter.” Before Bilbo or Dis could speak up the tall elven woman began to saunter away, beckoning for the hobbit to follow.

Bilbo, remembering his courtesies looked to Lord Elrond and bowed before leaving and quickly catching up with Lady Galadriel. The hobbit followed her up a winding set of stairs that looked as if the stone had formed the steps naturally. At the top he found himself in a small circular room that overlooked the entirety of the elven city. “Bilbo, I must tell you, I am very gladdened by your bravery. Not many would venture from their home to help strangers regain their own.”

Bilbo smiled. “Well, it’s not as if they were strangers for long.”  

The elf looked fondly at the hobbit. “No I suppose not. Dwarves can be stubborn creatures, but they love fiercely and will protect their own without a second thought. You have gained their trust, and you have Dis’s respect.”

Silence crept into the air until Bilbo spoke up.

“Is it true? Is is really possible for Dis’s brother to still be alive?”

Galadriel looked down to the hobbit and he met her gaze.

“I see many things that may come to pass, and I glimpsed a future in which Thorin rules from the throne of Erebor. If he was dead, my mirror would not have shown me this vision. I have seen the role you play in his rescue. Bilbo Baggins, I have seen the part you are to play in this world. You must succeed in this quest.”

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

The next morning the company headed out with full bellies and stocked rucksacks. The elves had taken care of their ponies and every member of the party was refreshed and ready to continue towards the Misty Mountains.

When the sun began to set, the dwarves stopped to set up camp. They were just a few miles in front of the passage that would lead them through the mountains. Bilbo led Myrtle to a small clear pond not far from camp and let her drink. Although he admittedly didn’t get along well with ponies, he had forged a kinship with this particular creature. He stroked her back and ran his fingers through her tawny colored mane, working out the small tangles that had developed over the day’s ride.

When Myrtle had drank her fill, Bilbo walked her back to the clearing on the edge of camp where the other ponies had been left. The hobbit stroked his companion’s nose and smiled fondly. As he walked back to camp the sun finally escaped beyond the horizon and the twinkling light of the stars began to brighten.

Most of the company was seated around a crackling fire that was lit in the center of camp. Bofur was stirring a wooden spoon in a large cast iron pot while Fili and Kili begged Bofur to tell a story. A huge smile erupted on Bilbo’s face as he sat down on the soft ground. This was why he had agreed to come along on this quest. If anyone deserved a home, it was them. They were not all related by blood, but they were family now and would stop at nothing to reclaim their home and rescue their prince.

“You’ve heard my stories a thousand times, I’m as tired of telling them as you are of hearing them. Why don’t you ask Bilbo to share a tale?” Bofur suggested to the young dwarves.

The brothers looked to the hobbit with pleading eyes and Bilbo didn’t want to reject such a sorry looking sight.

“I’m sorry lads, but we hobbits aren’t much for stories. We tell children tales of the brave men of Gondor and the sparkling jewels of the dwarves, but we don’t have any heros of our own.”

Somehow Fili and Kili managed to look even more heart broken than when Bofur had denied them a story.

“But.” Bilbo added. “Hobbits do enjoy a good song. Have you heard The Cat and The Moon?”

The brothers shook their head.

“Then how about I teach it to you. It starts out with, oh how does it start. Ah, yes, ** _there is an inn of old renown_**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this isn't nearly as long as I hoped, and that it took a good while longer for me to update. I've had a lot of stuff going on recently and haven't had as much time to write. Thank you so much for your continued support. I love logging in and seeing likes and comments and I really hope you enjoy where this story goes. Cheers!


	5. Lost Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mostly an apology for my absence

_Why do you bother?_

“Shut up.”

_Do you expect to find some secret in that book? Something that will make a difference?_

Thorin grumbled partly to the voice but mostly to himself. He was frustrated. The voice had invaded his mind for the past few days without pause. Wine no longer silenced it and Thorin was getting more and more agitated.

“I expect to ignore your unceasing voice.”

_You wound me Thorin, besides without my voice you would truly have nothing._

The dwarf rolled his eyes but chewed at the inside of his cheek ever so slightly, fearing the truth spoken by the malicious voice. Thorin was finding it very difficult to concentrate on reading with Smaug interrupting every few moments. His eyes read the words printed onto the pages, but he couldn't comprehend them.

"My mind has finally abandoned me."

He huffed under his breath and slammed the book shut. Thorin stood up and began to pace the library in frustration. He could feel himself wasting away. These countless years had taken a toll, and he couldn't keep up his charade of normalcy much longer. During his time in solitude his only true goal was to keep himself sane, but he was beginning to slip. He no longer had any breaks from the dragon's voice and his hallucinations were becoming more frequent. Thorin would hear marching echo through the abandoned halls night after night. He could see movement out of the corner of his eyes, only for nothing to be there when he turned his head. The dwarf ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a throaty noise trying to keep his composure. Come now Thorin, don't be boring. I'll lose my mind if you stop speaking to me. The voice mocked. The dwarf hurled the leather bound book with all of his might. As it made contact with the cold stone wall its pages exploded out and fluttered to the ground.

_See? Wasn't that fun?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it was such a short chapter and not at all worth the tremendous wait. I wish I had a better excuse for my absence but the vicious combination of writers block combined with being moderately busy really has kept me from writing. I want to thank everyone who sent me messages and encouraged me to keep writing despite leaving the story for so long. Thank you again for reading. Cheers


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